


Pants on Fire

by otatop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otatop/pseuds/otatop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is so bad at lying, he can't even do it to himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> WAT

It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen asleep in the loft but it was the first time he’d woken up alone with Derek. It took him a minute to realize, once he’d stretched out the crick in his neck, that he was no longer sharing the second hand couch with his best friend and that the object of his affection was leaning on the kitchen counter with a steaming mug held up to his face.

And shirtless. He was also very, very shirtless. And _barefoot_.

If Scott was going to set him up for these moments, he no longer regretted confiding in him his tiny little crush on the older werewolf.

Derek didn’t seem to care that Stiles had woken up. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed; his eyes were closed like he was still sleeping, breathing even and face relaxed. Heaven knows his messy hair and low riding sweatpants didn’t exude ‘I am Derek and I am always alert.’ He looked peaceful. Stiles had never seen that expression on his face, even after knowing him for two and a half years. It felt intimate, being allowed to see that face. It made the apartment feel ten times smaller and yet Stiles still felt too far away. He wanted to touch Derek- feel the warm skin of his cheeks and prickly stubble. He wanted to brush his fingers across his closed eyelids and feel how soft those down turned lips were beneath his. Maybe he could get them to lift. Just for him. He could picture the quiet smile, the one that said ‘I am Derek and I am sleepy and content and I am at home.’

He wanted to kiss Derek.

That wasn’t a new sensation, but the surge of _need_ that filled him was stronger than he’d ever experienced before. He couldn’t, though. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. They were antagonistic at best. Derek would probably gut him if he even got that close.

That sleepy expression said otherwise.

 _I will not kiss Derek_ , he started chanting silently. _I will not kiss Derek. I won’t. I do_ not _want to kiss Derek and Derek doesn’t want to kiss me and-_

“You’re lying.”

Stiles had a moment of brief panic at the words that teased in a sleep thick voice. The only indication that he hadn’t spoken his mantra aloud was the fresh peel of his lips and crack of his unused voice.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Derek opened his eyes and his soft features became amused, but not quite smiling.

“Whatever you were thinking so hard- you were lying to yourself. I could hear it all the way over here.”

Stiles gulped and tried not to focus on the fact that his very last thought had been about _Derek’s_ want. It was just a coincidence.

But… really? Did that even work?

 _I do_ not _want to kiss Derek. I do not want to do terrible things to him. I do not want to grow up and have lots of sex and babies with Derek. I am_ not _going to walk over there and kiss D-_

“You’re such a _liar_ ,” Derek hummed, drawing out the last syllable to mock him. It was all the excuse Stiles needed to blame fate. He stood form the couch, stretching a little more, and padded quietly to the kitchen. He kept Derek’s amused gaze, hoping to relay the message that he’d brought this upon himself. Derek let him approach, his face staying sleepy and amused even as Stiles stepped into his space. Feeling brave and very _now or never_ , Stiles took the cup from Derek’s hands, making sure their fingers slid together briefly in the only warning Derek would get.

Mug out of the way, he was struck by sudden excitement and pleased anxiety. He let Derek stew, let him feel the warmth of Stiles’ body so close to his and feel his breath ghost across his bearded cheek.

It wasn’t his imagination when Derek’s breath stuttered in a gasp.

He pressed forward slowly as his intense need would allow until Derek’s lips lined up with his in one single not-kiss. One touch. Barely even a brush. Stiles stayed close, close enough that the cotton of his jeans caught on Derek’s dangerously low sleep-pants, and peaked. Derek’s eyes were closed gain, calm and maybe a little concerned. But his mouth hung open, possibly in confusion or desire or shock. Stiles didn’t give him time to recover. He closed the space again, slotting their lips together.

Derek moved first. His hands came up to whisper over the sides of Stiles’ neck as he kissed back cautiously. He was nervous, gentle like if he moved too quickly or held too tightly Stiles would run away or disappear. Stiles let him take the lead, let him decide how deep the kiss was and let him find out for himself that Stiles wasn’t going anywhere. He let Derek take his time to kiss, to part his lips just that much more and let Stiles in. He tasted like too sweet coffee and toothpaste and moved with such precision Stiles didn’t know whether to kiss into his mouth _let go_ or fall to pieces.

The hands on his neck danced to cup his cheeks before Derek pulled away with the smallest gulp. Stiles couldn’t hold himself back from looking again. Derek’s expression hadn’t changed- his mouth was still parted and his eyes were crinkled, but his eyebrows had shot halfway up his forehead. Still feeling a little brave, Stiles lifted his hands slowly, slowly, slowly until his fingers were brushing fevered skin and his thumbs were smoothing out the lines of his forehead. Hazel eyes shot open, meeting brown. They stayed for a quiet moment, clutching each other’s faces and trying not to pant in excitementshockwant. Stiles swallowed hard.

“Derek,” he whispered, pleading for forgiveness or mercy or more.

Derek answered by pulling Stiles back in for another kiss.


End file.
